


Forgotten Things

by TiyeTiye



Series: Things That Go Bump In The Night [10]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Constantinople, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Just a Little Bit of Peril, Riddles, Roman Empire, eastern roman empire, sphinx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:37:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: Stuck in a foreign palace and bored out of his mind, Ivar takes to wandering and finds a mysterious locked door in a forgotten corner. Despite all his efforts, the door refuses to open. One night, a strange woman appears, and tells Ivar that she can open the door for him, for a price.





	Forgotten Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Just a little bit of peril.

This wing of the palace was largely deserted at night. Ivar preferred it that way. The emperor’s guards had quickly grown accustomed to Ivar’s wanderings, so now he was largely left to himself, mostly free to wander wherever he wished.

He’d been there for weeks, in this strange city bound on three sides by the sea. He didn’t like it. 

It was all Bjorn’s fault. After hearing tales of the city’s wonders and riches from traders and travelers far away back home in Kattegat, Bjorn decided that he had to see the city and its famous walls for himself. He’d even convinced his brothers to sail with him, far to the south, and then east, mile after mile until they reached the fabled city. _Constantinople_ \- capital city of the emperor that ruled what was left of the glory that was Rome. 

Ivar had freely agreed to go, thinking this would be a raid that would be sung of until the start of Ragnarok, greater by far than his father’s attack on Paris; that it would leave him richer than a king and so famous that people would forget the name of Ragnar. Yet instead of battle, he’d found nothing but talks. Talks of trade, talks of settlements, even talks of _marriages,_ so Ivar had escaped from the negotiations and had taken to wandering instead. 

He’d been all over the palace, from top to bottom, into every room his leg braces would let him reach, going through kitchens and barns, storerooms and bedrooms, even the emperor’s private suite late one night when he’d been away, but this long, cavernous hall was his favorite. Here, the reek from the perfumers outside the palace walls wasn’t too bad, and the large windows let in enough moonlight that when added to the rare torches left burning gave him enough light to see. 

And oh what there was to see, for in this hall the emperor housed his treasures. Plunder from far off wars, relics from forgotten religions, fragments of cities now crumbled to dust, statues of kings and queens long dead and gods long forgotten - mementos of every country once touched by Rome. All of it drawn across land and sea to this city, to rest in this hall. Ivar knew that the emperor liked to come here to show off his power and his wealth to his guests during the day, he and his brothers had themselves been given a tour the day after their arrival, but during the night it all belonged to Ivar.

More and more often of late, his nights were devoted to this hall. He would pass by the weathered marble king holding a scepter and crowned with leaves, beyond the winged horse made of darkened bronze, beyond the seated man with a falcon’s head and a strange crown, beyond the square-cut obelisks and columns that looked like women in long robes, going all the way to the hidden door. 

It was far in the back, hidden in the shadows well away from the nearest torch or window, behind a statue of an enormous cat with a woman’s face. It looked to be carved out of the same stone as the walls around it, with just the barest sliver of an outline to give it away. There was a small, tarnished metal plate attached to its front, long worn dull with age and covered with strange letters that Ivar couldn’t read, an ornate lock beneath that, and no sign of a handle. His ramblings throughout the rest of the palace hadn’t given him the slightest hint of what the door could be hiding, but it had to be _something_. It hadn’t been mentioned when the emperor had shown them around his treasure hall. Ivar would bet that he didn’t even know it was there. 

This would be his third night in a row trying to get past the door. The first night, he’d found it just before dawn, and pushed and shoved and pried at it with his dagger for as long as he could before dawn came and chased him away. The second night he’d spent hours sitting in front of its lock, picking at it with thin rods of metal he’d begged from a blacksmith, all to no avail. Tonight, wrapped in a rough cloth sack, he’d brought something bigger to help him through. 

Pulling a torch from the wall, he used it to light his way the last few steps to the door before leaving it propped against the statue of the cat-woman. Quietly, he set down his sack and opened it, revealing a hammer the size of his two fists together. This should get him through. It _had_ to. 

Wrapping the sack around the hammer’s head to deaden its sound and prevent discovery, Ivar hefted it and gave it an experimental swing, bringing it down against the door’s lock as hard as he could. The sound echoed down the length of the treasure hall, but no answering shout came from the guards at its door. Ivar smiled. This _was_ going to work. 

Ivar lifted the hammer to strike again. 

“That is not the way through either.” 

Ivar swung around, nearly dropping his heavy hammer. Before him, on the pedestal usually occupied by the enormous cat-woman statue, sat a dark-shinned woman in a linen dress, holding his torch. 

“Who—who are you?! Where did you come from?! How did you get in here?! ” Ivar demanded. 

The woman shrugged, nonchalantly hopping off the pedestal and slinking over to Ivar, ignoring his raised hammer. 

“I live here,” she said, slotting the torch into a nearby bracket on the wall and coming to lean against the wall in front of him, blocking his path to the door. “I’ve lived here for a while. I suppose you could call me a ‘guest' of that fool who calls himself ‘emperor.’ Much like yourself.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before then? I’ve been here for weeks.” 

The woman laughed, deep and throaty. “You’re good, but you don’t notice nearly all that you think you do Ivar.” 

“How do you know my name?” he demanded.

The woman met his eyes and smiled. Her eyes were a bright, unnatural gold and her smile was filled with too-sharp teeth. In the flickering light of the torch that she held, her shadow was wrong too, for across the wall behind her stretched the long, sinuous form of a monstrous cat.

“I know a lot of things, Ivar son of Ragnar.” 

Ivar ignored prickling feeling on the back of his neck and the voice in his head screaming at him to _run_ and held his ground. 

“What—what else do you know?” he asked. 

The woman smiled again, approving rather than mocking this time. 

“I know the secret names of the seven seas and the name of the wind that moves over them. I know how to bring rain to the desert and how to still a river in flood. I know how to bring a man’s spirit back from the judgement of death and how to slay a man without ever laying eyes on him. But most important for you, Ivar, son of Ragnar, I know how to get through this door.” 

Ivar felt a surge of excitement run through his chest. “You do? How? Tell me!” 

“You are quite fond of questions, aren’t you, little man?” 

“Tell me how to get through the door!” 

“There is nothing to it. All I have to do is open it for you and let you in.”

“Do it then!”

The woman cocked an eyebrow at his outburst, her feline shadow stretching and lengthening behind her as a strange low rumble filled their corner of the hall. “If you think I am yours to command, _little boy_ , you are _sadly mistaken_. I was old before your people first crawled their way out of the sea and I have seen more empires rise and fall than you have seen sunrises. If you want to see what lies beyond my door, you are going to have to _earn it_.” 

Ivar swallowed his frustration and his fear, and gave the woman a small, quick nod. You could even call it a bow. “Very well. How…how can I earn it?” 

The rumbling stopped as the woman smiled and clapped her hands. “Back to questions - that’s better. But to get through my door Ivar, you must answer _my_ questions. Just three of them. But if you fail to answer correctly…then it will not go well for you.” 

“What does that mean?”

The woman smiled again, another flash of fang. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any…visitors. Perhaps they’ve all forgotten about me here. One does get lonely, and _hungry_.” 

Ivar took a step back. “What is….what exactly is beyond your door?” 

The woman ran a hand over the smooth stone behind her, tracing the runes on the metal plate with her fingertips. “Glory. Disaster. Both. The only way to find out is to go through. Would you like to try?” 

Ivar swallowed and met the woman’s golden eyes. “Yes.” 

“ _Good._ ” The woman pushed off the wall and walked forward until she stood looming over him. How had he not noticed before how _tall_ she was? The woman raised a single finger and began to recite:

 

“ _This thing all things devours:_

_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_

_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_

_Grinds hard stones to meal;_

_Slays king, ruins town,_

_And beats high mountain down._

_What is it?”_

 

She took a step closer as she breathed the last of her question, eyes falling to the veins of his neck, and Ivar fought to keep still and _think_.

“Well Ivar?” the woman asked, slowly beginning to circle him. “ _What is it_?” 

Shaking his head to clear it, Ivar’s mind scrambled for an answer. He needed more time, he just needed a bit more _time_. 

“Time!” he blurted out. “It’s time!” 

The woman gave a disappointed sigh from behind him. “Very good,” she admitted as she came to stand before him again, her shadow’s tail twitching in irritation on the wall behind her. “However, most men are able to answer the first question. Don’t let it go to your head.” The woman raised two brown fingers and asked the second question, her golden eyes flashing in the dark. 

 

“ _Voiceless it cries_ ,

_Wingless flutters,_

_Toothless bites,_

_Mouthless mutters._

_What is it?”_

 

This time Ivar closed his eyes as the woman began to circle him, ignoring the soft sound of her footfalls and the swish of her dress against the stone floor. The pounding in his heart was more difficult to ignore, as was the sound of the wind rushing through the emperor’s gardens outside. 

“Tootheless bites, mouthless mutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters” Ivar mumbled to himself, mind racing, feeling the soft touch of warmth from the woman’s body as she circled him. Should he be able to feel her from that far away? How was she so _warm_? “Wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters - come on, come on, _come on_ ….Wind! Wind! It’s the wind!” 

A sharp _click_ of teeth on teeth came from directly behind Ivar, and the woman growled in irritation, appearing in front of him again with a frustrated snarl on her face. 

“Very well,” she said, raising three fingers. “Final question, Ivar son of Ragnar. No backing out now.” 

 

_“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,_

_Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt._

_It lies behind stars and under hills,_

_And empty holes it fills._

_It comes first and follows after,_

_Ends life, kills laughter._

_What is it?”_

 

Instead of circling him, the woman stood in front of Ivar this time, staring into his eyes, utterly still. Ivar knew that if he tried to flee now the woman would chase him down and tear out his throat. Wait, had her shadow gotten bigger? The dark, spectral cat stretched nearly to the roof now, its shadow-tail thrashing in irritation, its long, sharp teeth bared. As Ivar fought to find the answer to the final riddle, the woman took a single step towards him. 

“Well, what is your answer, little boy?” she growled. 

“Give me a moment,” Ivar said, shuffling backward. 

“No, tell me now,” the woman demanded, stalking him across the floor. 

“I need more time!” Ivar shouted, continuing to back away. His back collided against the stone wall behind him and he found that he had nowhere else to go. 

“I will have your answer, boy!” the woman snarled, her mouth beginning to stretch impossibly wide as her fangs pushed past her lips. Her shadow had also escaped from its prison on the wall, following her on her hunt. Ivar could feel its footsteps now, thudding through the flagstone floor as the monster made of shadow and darkness came to swallow him whole. 

“Answer me!” The woman screamed as she tilted her head, bringing her teeth to bear on Ivar’s neck. 

Ivar closed his eyes and shouted a word, hoping against all hope that it was the right one. “ _Darkness!_ ”

Utter silence fell throughout the hall, and after a long breath Ivar opened his eyes. The woman was gone. The statue had returned to its pedestal. All was as it should be. 

Ivar jumped at a grating sound from the corner of the hall. The door had opened. The slab of stone slid seamlessly to the side, revealing a dark tunnel behind it, and a set of stairs slanting sharply down. Ivar walked over, took the torch from the wall, and shone it through the opening - there didn’t seem to be an end in sight to the steps. The tunnel could go on forever.

Ivar’s hand went to his belt, checking that his dagger was still there, and then he bent to pick up his forgotten hammer. 

As he began to take his first step through the doorway, the woman’s voice stopped him, echoing through the empty hall. 

“Glory and disaster, son of Ragnar. Choose wisely.”

Ivar took one last glance at the statue behind him and stepped through the door. 


End file.
